David: A King's Calling (2025)

I'm planning on reviewing a few short biblical films in the next few months, first of which is the newly released David: A King's Calling (watch it here), written and directed by brothers Kaleb and Kyler Cook. With Amazon Prime's House of David landing next month (more about that from Peter Chattaway) the timing seems perfect and as the first chapter I ever had published in an academic was on films about King David, I thought I'd write a short review.

It turns out that this isn't primarily a film about David, but about the prophet Samuel, played here by Steve Shermett best known for his work as Josiah on The Chosen. As such the film very much relies on his performance because this is not an epic movie about great battles and huge kingdoms: it's a small intimate film about connecting with God. It takes a few small verses from smack in the middle of the first Book of Samuel (15:34-16:3) and really digs deep into the feelings and emotions of that monumental moment.

Those who know me well, will know that this is the kind of concept I love, taking a relatively obscure moment and exploring it through film and what's more I think the film handles that really well. Shermett's performance and the writing, editing and camera positioning really do give a feel of what it's like to pray and to attempt hear from God. Not many people retreat into the wilderness like Samuel does here (evoking a similar experience by David's most famous descendant), but anyone who has brought things before God over an extended or intense will relate to what the film portrays.

However, there's a danger that such comments undermine the great technical work that goes on here. The concept is simple and the team relatively small, but it's clearly a labour of love by two filmmakers who know what they're doing. For a short film, there considerable number of different shots, and these don't come in the classic Hollywood shot-reverse-shot style. Indeed almost the opposite is true: the camera rarely returns to an earlier proximity/angle/location/time of day and yet the continuity never suffers. What results is a sort of consistent dynamism which both captures the passing of time but still, somehow, dwelling in the moment. 

There are a few shots when this naturalistic kind of montage makes way for special effects, but for me, these are among the film's weaker moments. For me it's the quieter, intimate moments where it feels it connects to something; touches something spiritual even. And while the tech-laden finale brings a certain sense of closure to proceedings, it's the quieter moments earlier on that really linger in the memory.